Rory Wants More
by PhillyWriter
Summary: Rory spends a weekend with her grandparents. And it opens her eyes up to the benefits of their world.
1. Saturday Morning: The Country Club

It was roughly 9 A.M. and Rory and Richard Gilmore were already on the third hole. The sun was reflecting off of the creek where Rory's ball had just landed.

"I'm sorry, Grandpa," Rory said. "This… this is not good.

"It's quite okay, Rory," Richard said. "You're still learning."

"I really can't believe Chilton makes us do this," Rory said. "I really do not like sports. Or get them. Or want to do them. Ever."

"Well, Rory, Plato said that physical education is as important as a mental education," Richard said. "And if it's good enough for Plato, it's good enough for you. And, plus, Rory. You could do worse than be here right now, I believe."

Rory looked around. The green, lush grass surrounded, only interrupted with beautiful landscaping and blossoming pink flowers, along with the sounds of birds overhead. Richard lined up his shot and hit a 7-iron that landed on the fringe of the green and rolled slightly to the hole.

Richard took a ball from his bag and dropped it on the grass.

"Okay, Rory," as I told you. "Lock your fingers together at your pinkies. Keep your head down and your front arm straight. And then turn with your hips and let that swing your club."

"Right," she said, repeating those words. Rory approximated her grandfather's form and the ball went in the air.

"I… I hit the ball!" Rory scream.

Richard laughed.

"You did more than that, Rory," Richard said. "Your ball landed right where mine did. And it's now two feet from the hole. That, my dear, is the look of a natural."

Rory and Richard now sat at lunch, each ordering a separate sandwich.

"So, Rory, tell me, do they offer economics at Chilton?"

"Oh, yes. But not until senior year. It's an elective," she said.

"Economics an elective?" Richard shook his head in dismay.

"Yes," Rory said. "And I'm glad it is. I'm trying to stay away from numbers as much as I can."

"Well, from your reading habits, I can see that," Richard said. "But economics is the most important field of study in academia. It's not just numbers, you know. It's more about choices. We have an unlimited amount of desires and wants. But we only have limited resources. Economics studies how societies and individuals make those choices."

"Hmmmph," Rory said. "Then why is it so complicated with graphs?"

"It's complicated so only a few of us can understand it," Richard said, chuckling to himself. "Understand economics and how and why people make the choices we do… Well, it goes a long way to understanding how the world works. Why, at my company, no one understands the field more than I do. That's why I only have one boss. And that's the man who started the place."

Rory smiled.

"That must be nice," she said.

"It is," Richard said.

"People don't always make rational choices, Rory." She flinched, knowing her family's history. But Richard continued. "And let me ask you this. Do you want to be the person who makes the choices or do you want to be the person who has the choices made for them?"

Rory looked down. It wasn't a question she ever considered.

"Well, I'd like to make the choices," she said.

"Of course you do," Richard said. "After all, you're a Gilmore. When we get home, I'll give you a copy of my favorite economics book. It's called 'Wealth of Nations' by Adam Smith. We'll start there."

"But Grandpa, I already have enough to read," she said.

"Yes, you do," he said. "But you should start to understand economics. It's a competitive world, Rory. To get ahead, you need to understand how to make the right choice to maximize your resources. You'll have a head start, learning this well before you're a senior. Your classmates won't stand a chance."

Rory smiled as she ate her sandwich.


	2. Saturday Afternoon: Shopping With Emily

Emily, wearing a designer black top with pink trim and black skirt with heels, stood tall as a doorman held the door open for her at the Nordstrom's entrance, Rory right at her side.

"I have so many designers for you to try," Emily said. "You have such a wonderful frame. There are just so many outfits for you."

"Grandma, everything here is so expensive," Rory said.

"That's your mother talking," Emily said. "She was never one for the mall. Or, at least, not the nice one. I will say her frugality has some charms. But she is very much missing the point."

Rory's eyes narrowed.

"I don't just wear these clothes because they're expensive, Rory," Emily explained. "No matter what MTV or god knows what tells you, appearances are important. Looking nice and fashionable and in style… Well… it tells me that you are important. It tells people that you are someone they need to pay attention to."

Emily leaned next to Rory and looked at the direction of a woman with a daughter roughly Rory's age. The woman was wearing a Disney World sweatshirt and jeans. The daughter was clad in stretch pants. They were both ogling outfits as a store clerk

"God only knows what they're doing here as opposed to the food court," Emily said. "Follow me, Rory." 

Emily walked right next to the other pairing. A clerk, who had been busy hanging up various items, ran right up to Emily and Rory.

"Hello, ma'am. May I help you?"

"Yes," Emily said. "I am interested in having my granddaughter try on some Chanel dresses. The fall line that I saw advertised –"

The other woman stepped forward.

"Oh, excuse me, ma'am. We were waiting for some help."

Emily turned to the woman.

"Oh, were you?"

Emily then briskly walked past, her nose in the air, as the clerk followed. Rory scampered up.

"Grandma! Those people were waiting for help before us," Rory said. 

"Ask yourself this, Rory," Emily said. "This is something your mother never understood. But I am getting helped first because I look like I should get helped first. Especially over someone who looks like they have never slept inside. Who would you rather be right now? Us, who are getting waited on immediately. Or them, who now have to wait?"

Rory looked back at the mother and daughter.

"Here you are, ma'am," the clerk said, pointing to the designer dresses. Rory turned to them as a beaming Emily made her way to the outfits.

***

Emily and Rory each had about six bags in their hands as they walked past the jewelry case.

"Look at all of these," Emily said. "They are all so nice."

Rory's eyes sparkled as she looked at them.

"Go ahead," Emily said. "Pick out something you'd like."

"Grandma! You already spent –"

"It doesn't matter what I spent," Emily said. "I can tell by looking at you there's something you have your eyes on. I have the resources to afford something here, Rory. And like I said before… appearances really do matter."

Emily grinned smugly. Rory stared at a case for a second. Then she pointed at a pair of Tiffany earrings on a black case. The price was $2,500.

"Tiffany," Emily said proudly. "You have excellent taste, Rory."

Emily got the clerk's attention.

"We'd like to have those earrings right there," Emily said. "And the matching necklace."

Rory turned to her grandmother and smiled. 


	3. Saturday Evening: Business With Richard

Rory sat on the living room coach with a highlighter pen, entranced in Adam Smith's tome. Richard came knocking on the door.

"Ah, wonderful," Richard said. "I'm so glad you're reading this book. I know you're quite a fan of literature but sometimes it's better to find yourself in the real world for a change."

Rory's eyes perked up.

"I had no idea about this 'invisible hand,' Grandpa," Rory said. "But I can certainly see it in action."

"It certainly exists," Richard said, smiling. "How good are you with computers?"

"Pretty good," Rory said.

"Excellent. I have colleagues at work who handle my computer research for me. But, obviously, they're not as dedicated to the job as I am as none of them are picking up their phones," Richard said. "Golf really is a game best played by people who don't have the title of 'assistant' attached to their names."

They went into Richard's study. Rory turned on the computer.

"Could you look up Eurozone bond interest rates for the month of August, dear?"

Rory look puzzled for a second as Richard spelled out the word for her slowly.

"Aha! Wonderful! What does that say?"

"4.2 percent," Rory responded.

Richard pulled out a file as he peered over his glasses. A smile waved over his face.

"Wonderful," he said. "Just wonderful." This was followed by a cackle.

"This is good news?"

"Yes, Rory," Richard said. "I'll try to explain it to you simply since you're just now learning about economics. Insurance is a complicated industry. And one of our competitors is using this 4.2 percent number to determine the price of some of its policies."

Rory nodded. Despite her intelligence and interest in the world, this was hard to follow.

"But the interest rates this month are now 3.6 percent. And with a little bit of rewording of our policies, we'll be able to issue new prices that are cheaper," Richard said.

"And since prices are cheaper, people will buy your product," Rory said. "Competitive theory."

"You're understanding this faster than you thought you were," Richard smiled. "So I'm going to do some work and make some phone calls. I have, oh, about 72 hours before the competition catches on to what I'm up to. But hopefully that's all it will take for me to take a few dozen customers off their hands."

Richard leaned back and chuckled evilly.

"This, Rory, is how competition works," Richard explained. "I put in more work than my enemy. I now know my enemy's weakness. And I can now strike while I can." 

He paused to take off his glasses.

"Friends in life are important, Rory. Especially at your age," Richard said. "But there are a lot of people like you who want to go to Harvard… for some reason. But there are only so many acceptances Harvard will allow. You're competing with students from around the world. You're competing with people who sit right next to you in your classes. And while they may be your friends… also keep in mind that, to some degree, they're also your enemies."

Rory sat stone-faced. This review of the world was harsh. But it washed over her.

"And if I know my enemy's weakness… then I can strike when I can," Rory said.

Richard smirked.

"Wonderful," he said. "I have some calls to make, Rory. But I can make out some time in a few hours if you have any questions about anything you're reading right now."

Rory nodded and smiled.

"I'm sure I'll have plenty."


	4. Sunday Morning: A Meeting With Emily

"Ugh. These people," Emily said as someone in a non-luxury car waited to make a left hand turn, right before leaning on the horn of her newly purchased Mercedes Benz.

"Grandma," Rory said, exasperated. "It's okay. Your meeting isn't for another 20 minutes and it's right up the street."

Emily tsk-tsked her granddaughter.

"Rory, you'll see soon how important it is to arrive not just in time, but early," Emily said. "Being first in the room gets you the best seat."

They continued driving before stuck behind another light. Emily sighed. 

"Your grandfather thinks these things are so frivolous," Emily said. "All these banquets and balls I drag him to. I don't think he's ever quite realized how much of his success is because of everything I've done. Rory, when you call to our house, who picks up the phone?"

"It's either the maid or you."

"Exactly," Emily said. "And if I've worked with the wife on some 'frivolous' event, then she knows the name Gilmore. And that makes for some friendly chatter. And that leads to a good relationship. And that leads to him finding business."

"That makes sense to me, Grandma," Rory said.

"Connections matter, Rory," Emily said. "Knowing the right people gets you in the right places. Thankfully, we don't have to work too hard to know the right people. Heck, in most cases, we ARE the right people." 

Emily and Rory walked into the conference room in the basement of the Mark Twain House. Rory, ever the writer and student, wanted to take some time to look at some of the exhibits but her grandmother's brisk pace told her otherwise.

"Delores! Pamela! Claire!" Emily said as excitedly as possible. "It's so lovely to see you!"

They exchanged hugs before turning to Rory.

"Rory, I'd like you to meet me friends Delores and Pamela," Emily said, showing her off. "This is my granddaughter Rory.'

Rory meekly smiled as the women gushed.

"Oh, you are even more gorgeous than we pictured," one of the women said as Rory, wearing her Tiffany earrings and a black-and-red ensemble Emily purchased, blushed.

"Yes, truly divine. Have you had your coming out yet?"

"Not yet," Emily said. "We're working on that."

Rory furrowed her brow when one of the women asked about school.

"Oh, I go to Chilton," Rory said. They all said how wonderful the school was.

"Rory's on the school newspaper. She's already had three articles published and it's her first year," Emily boasted.

"Grandma, it's not a big deal—"

Delores's eyes perked.

"Oh, are you a reporter? Is that something you like?"

Emily began to speak for Rory before realizing what she was doing.

"Oh, I love it," Rory said. "It's been my dream since I can remember to become a journalist."

"Why, my brother is the publisher of the Courant," Delores said. "You should really meet him one day. He loves talking with young journalists."

"Oh, I'd love it if he came to our school to speak," Rory said, before remembering what her grandfather said to her hours earlier. "Or, actually, if it's easier, I would love to meet with him at his office."

"I'm sure that can be arranged," Delores said, smiling.

Emily patted Rory on the thigh and smiled.

15 minutes elapsed and more women entered the room. Emily glanced at the clock.

"Hmmph," she said, technically under her breath but loud enough for those around her to hear. "Danielle is running late again, I guess."

A woman in her mid-50s came running into the room, holding several files.

"I am so sorry about the time," Danielle said. "I had some errands to do at home and you know the traffic this time of night."

Emily scowled at this woman.

"Well, I guess we shall begin this meeting of the Friends of the Mark Twain House," Danielle said as she took her seat at the head of the conference table. "All presiding officers in attendance say yay."

Several women answered. Emily said hers louder than other and last.

"Well, I guess we should begin with our annual gala," Danielle said. "Last year's raised more money than any event we've ever had in the past. So I propose we just have another 'Rafting Down the Mississippi' theme. It worked out so well."

There were a few nods. And then Emily rolled her eyes before raising her hand.

"Danielle, that sounds well and fine, but we should also remember that we raised money not just because of the theme, but also because of the hard work of the fundraising committee," Emily said. "Why, Delores did such a wonderful job reaching out to all of our sponsors."

"Yes, she d—" 

"And, well, I would hate to see her talents go to waste this year," Emily said.

"I don't see how that will be possible," Danielle said.

"Well, it's just that I don't see how having the same exact theme two years in a row will generate any excitement from the business community," Emily said. "Stores… at least the good ones… change their displays every month. I think we should, too."

A few people nodded.

"Well, Emily, I wish you had brought this up sooner. Because we have to have a theme in place by the end of the night." 

Emily smiled. 

"Well I thought of one," Emily said, standing up before the rest of the room. "How about The Jumping Frog of Calaveras County?" 

"And what exactly will this entail, Emily," Danielle asked, with more than a hint of guard in her voice.

"Oh, well, we'll have a saloon theme on the stage. I'm sure we can find an old-time pianist somewhere in the area," Emily said.

"Oh, my nephew is home from Juliard," Pamela shouted. "He's a concerto. I'm sure he can figure out a few songs for us."

"And, most importantly, since the story is about a man who gambles about the leaping ability of a frog, I'm sure we can arrange for there to be a poker game of some sorts," Emily said.

The women in the crowd made a series of murmurs in agreement. Danielle slumped in her chair.

"Well, it looks like the Jumping Frog it is, then," Danielle said as Emily smirked.

"That was almost too easy," Emily said as she started to drive.

"What was, Grandma?"

"Taking control of that group," Emily said. "Danielle's in way over her head and has been from the start. She never should have been named president. She got lucky the whole event didn't fall apart last year."

Emily hit her breaks heavy, as another car dared turn into a driveway. 

"I knew this event would have been a failure without my taking charge of it," Emily said. "I just had to make sure the other women knew there was a choice they could make. And I also made sure Delores knew she did a good jump fundraising and there was a need for a musician for Pamela's son or nephew or whoever she said."

Rory's eyes bulged.

"You planned that out? More than just the idea of the event?'

Emily smiled.

"Persuading others isn't that hard to do if you know what it is they truly want," Emily said with mischief in her voice.

"So, Grandma, why don't you just become president of the group?"

Emily stared ahead.

"Oh, I might next year. But being president is a lot of work. And I'm already in the DAR and the Friends of the Symphony and who know what else," she said. "But why be president when I can just make sure the president does what I want anyways? Either way, I win."


	5. Monday Morning: Richard Drives Rory

Rory sat in the passenger seat as Richard drove in his black Jaguar. He had struggled for a few minutes to find out how to operate the car's phone system. His granddaughter helped him.

The phone rang three times until someone's voice picked up.

"Hello, Ryan. This is Richard Gilmore."

Ryan's voice stammered. "Oh, hello, Richard."

"Ryan, I need you to book a flight for tomorrow. There's a big conference in Tulsa and we need a representative there. We are starting a new policy for oil and gas products and I need a salesperson there to find some clients."

Ryan paused. He clearly did not want to go on this assignment.

"Richard. My son's first Little League game is tomorrow. I've been practicing with him for a month."

Richard paused.

"Oh, no, that's okay, Ryan. I'm sure I can find some other salesperson eager to attend the event. Someone younger and hungrier," Richard boomed. "And I'll also make sure to note this conversation in your annual review, which I believed is due to be held in another three weeks or so."

One could almost hear Ryan's gulp in his throat.

"Oh, no, it's okay, Richard," Ryan said. "I… I'll get right on making the reservation." 

"Very good," Richard said, before abruptly hanging up the phone.

"Grandpa," Rory said, shocked. "You're making him go to Oklahoma? What about his son?"

"Well, Rory, I always say that family comes before work," Richard said. "But without work, there is no family. He might miss his son's first baseball game. But I pay Ryan quite a bit of money. His duty is to provide a livelihood to his wife and child. It was ultimately his choice to make. It just so happens that I am the person who says whether he made a good or bad choice."

Rory looks out the window.

"It's a responsibility," Richard said. "But, Rory, it's what comes if you find yourself in a position like mine in the business world. I can either be the boss or have a boss. And, ultimately, if I don't make the people under me do what's required for the job, then I won't be either. It's a cruel fact of life. But it's a fact of life."

Rory nodded.

Richard made another phone call, this time to the country club.

"Hello, Jennifer, this is Richard Gilmore."

"Hello, Mr. Gilmore. How may I help you today?"

"Well, Jennifer, I would like to put in a request for my wife and I to have a reserved parking space right next to the clubhouse."

"I can put in the request, Mr. Gilmore, but I'm not sure that's likely to occur. All of the reserved spots have been filled for the season."

"I understand that, Jennifer. But I will remind you that we have been members for 40-some years."

"Oh, you and Mrs. Gilmore are valued members, Mr. Gilmore. But the spaces have been reserved for sometime."

"Yes, Jennifer, I see." Richard smiled at Rory. "Well, I was planning on buying an additional membership for my granddaughter this week. But we may need to reconsider this decision, as well as our own membership."

Jennifer paused.

"Well, Mr. Gilmore," Jennifer said. "I will certainly let the general manager know this, especially the part about the new membership. In fact, just looking through the paperwork now, I do think we may be able to arrange your parking needs. I'll just have to verify with him."

"Very good," Richard said before hanging up.

"Rory," Richard said. "Here is another business tip. Sometimes to get something you want you have to give up something. Your grandmother and I want a parking spot right in the front. It's a sign of prestige. We already should have one years ago, in fact. But what the club wants more than anything is members and, most importantly, money."

"It's a resource," Rory said.

Richard nodded and smiled.

"It is. And if you use resources wisely, then you find yourself getting what you want out of life."

Rory smiled back.

"Thank you, Grandpa."


	6. Monday Evening: Stars Hollow

Rory opened up the first few pages of the book her grandfather lent her, Milton Friedman's "Free To Choose." She grabbed her highlighter as she lay on top of her bed.

A few minutes later, Lorelei knocked on the door, holding a bowl of popcorn in one hand and a set of DVDs in the other.

"Hey, kiddo," Lorelei said. "How about you come on in? I've got Seasons 2 and 3 of Diff'rent Strokes for us to get through. It has the episode with Gordon Jump."

Rory looked up.

"Aw, Mom," Rory said. "I want to, but I just started reading something."

"I thought you said homework was done."

"It is."

"Look, I know you're a bookworm. I love that about you," Lorelei said. "But please don't tell me you're reading Milton Friedman."

"Why shouldn't I read this?"

"Because, honey, it's boring," Lorelei said. "I'm taking business classes and I wouldn't even read that."

"Grandpa gave it to me and said I'd like it," Rory said.

"Well, that makes a little more sense now," Lorelei said. "But, seriously, come on. Diff'rent Strokes time."

"No, mom, I can't," Rory said.

Lorelei grabbed the book jacket.

"You mean to tell me that 'Milton Friedman's arguments about the benefits of an individual's right to choose in a free market' is that much more important to you than sitting on a couch with your mom, your hard working mom, your hard working mom who has just wanted to watch Arnold and Willis with you all day?"

Rory sighed.

"Mom, I know I work hard in school," Rory said. "But I can't just stop there. I have to really get a leg up on everyone who are applying to the same colleges as me. It's a competition."

Lorelei shook her head and glared.

"There is time to play, honey," Lorelei said.

"And playing means I'm not working, Mom."

Lorelei huffed.

"Fine," she said, walking out of the room.


	7. Wednesday: Chilton

Rory walked from the halls of Chilton into the bathroom. She reached into her bookbag. And there, she took out a small black case. She stared in the mirror and she put in the Tiffany earrings her grandmother had bought for her the weekend before.

Rory then started walking to her first period class when an arm grabbed her.

"Wow, Rory," Madeline said. "Those earrings are so nice. Are they Tiffany?"

Rory blushed.

"Oh, yes," Rory said. "My grandmother helped pick them out for me."

"Well, tell your grandmother I want her to take me shopping," Madeline said.

Rory heard someone clear their throat. She looked over. It was Paris.

"Enough with her, Madeline," Paris ordered. "Let's go."

Madeline rolled her eyes as she stormed off at Paris's lead.

The bell for the end of the day ran. Rory went to her locker. Normally, she would study in the library for a few minutes before heading into the newspaper club meeting. But as she got to the library, she instead paused and went to the newsroom.

Rory was the second to arrive as the room slowly filled. Madeline smiled, and sat right behind Rory.

A few minutes of idle chit chat passed. Rory looked at the clock and took a deep breath.

"So it's three," Rory said loud enough for the room to hear but not loud enough to be accused of that being an intentional act. "I would like to think our esteemed editor-in-chief would be here by now."

Mr. Medina walked in right after that, with a cup of coffee in hand. Paris came in, huffing as tradition, with a host of papers and books in her hands.

"Okay, everyone," Paris ordered. "I need your story ideas. Now."

The young staff all shouted out orders. Paris rolled her eyes at each one.

"I'd like to do a story about the return of grunge," Madeline said. "It's a hot look."

Paris was enraged.

"No, Madeline. Absolutely not. Get serious. We're going to enter our paper into a national contest and I refuse to have something so embarrassing like that in our publication," Madeline said.

Rory felt a nervous pit in her stomach. And then she stood up.

"No, Madeline, I think that's a great idea," Rory said, smiling at her classmate. "Madeline did such an amazing job in our last issue talking about Madonna's evolution over the decade. It would be such a waste to not let her use her strengths."

Paris glared at Rory.

"Gilmore, sit down," Paris said. "This issue is serious. We simply don't have room for such insignificant work."

"Well, let's make room, then."

Rory stared at Paris.

"How about we have an entire style section," Rory said. "We have plenty of reporters. I just think it's such a waste of our… resources… to not use them wisely."

Paris, infuriated, glared at Rory.

"Well, Rory, I'm the editor," Paris said. "And adding on an entire new section is just impossible. It means there is just that much more work for me to edit."

"Fine," Rory said. "Then I'll edit the section."

Paris shook her head. "No. There will be no style section."

Mr. Medina rose.

"Actually, Paris, I think it's a wonderful idea," Max said. "I think there's a lot to be said for letting students really write about what they like and what they know. And, also, it's the type of thing that will really stand out in terms of these contests. Rory, I approve. You're now the style page editor."

Rory tried to hide back a smirk.

"Thank you, Mr. Medina," Rory said. "But just one other thing. Since it's obvious Paris has some animosity to this idea… and since she's already said she's too busy to handle this and the rest of the newspaper… I would like to have the same status as her."

Paris's eyes bulged.

"Now, Rory," Mr. Media said. "I'm sure you two can work it –"

"No, Gilmore. I'm the editor. That's the way it is and that's the way it ALWAYS will be."

Rory turned to Max. "This is exactly what I'm talking about, Mr. Medina.'

He sighed and nodded.

"I see your point, Rory," Max said. "Paris, you're the co-editor of the news, sports and editorial sections. And Rory, you're the co-editor of the style page."

Rory beamed, making sure Paris saw, before turning to the rest of the class.

"Hello, this is Randall Peters' office," said gruff older man on the other end of the phone.

"Hello, Mr. Peters. My name is Rory Gilmore," Rory said. "My grandmother is Emily Gilmore. And I met your sister Delores at the Mark Twain House Society meeting over the weekend."

"Oh, yes," Peters said. "My sister did tell me that she met an aspiring reporter. You go to Chilton?"

"Yes I do," Rory said. "In fact, I'm the co-edit… I mean, I'm the editor of our school newspaper."

"That's wonderful," Peters said. "We should really figure out a time for you to come into the newsroom."

"I would absolutely love that," Rory said.

"And, in fact, we should also talk about our high school internship program," Peters said. "Give me a call back in two weeks. Bring some of your writing samples and we'll pair you up with one of the reporters who you'd match well with."

"Will do," Rory said, smiling, as she quickly hung up the phone.


	8. Friday Night: Emily and Richard's House

Rory came trotting down the steps of her grandparents house in a red and blue jacket dress her grandmother purchased for her the weekend before, complete with earrings. Emily was already seated as Richard came into the house.

"Ah, Rory, so glad you could join us early," Richard said.

"Yes. It just makes sense rather than rushing all the way to Stars Hollow," Rory said. "And, also, I wanted to give you the book back. Thank you so much."

"Yes," Richard said. "Old Milton's one of my favorites. He's quite the man."

"So, Rory, how is school?" Emily asked.

Rory sat down and mirrored her grandmother's posture.

"Well, it was great," Rory said, her feet squirming a bit. "I did a few things that I wanted to tell you two first. My mom doesn't know."

Emily and Richard looked at each other worried.

"Are you in trouble? Is everything okay?" Richard asked.

"Oh, the opposite," Rory said, smiling. "I'm the new co-editor of the school paper!"

"That's wonderful," Emily said. "You've been in that school for three months and are already the co-editor!"

"Why didn't you tell your mother this," Richard said.

Rory smirked.

"Well, it's how I did it."

Emily looked at Richard from the side of her eyes. He cupped his hand over his belly.

"I really took it to heart," Grandpa. "All the books about the invisible hand and the free market. And how competition works. And I know that… well… my classmates are my classmates. And they're my friends. But they're also my enemies."

Richard nodded.

"So, Grandma," Rory said. "I hid these earrings from my mom."

"Smart choice," Emily said.

"And I made sure this classmate of mine Madeline saw them. She's very into fashion."

"Even smarter choice," Emily said, smiling. 

"So at the newspaper meeting, that girl Paris I told you about, well, she was being bossy as usual. Madeline wanted to write some awful story about teenage fashion. Paris said no," Rory said. "And I stood up and said it was the best idea I ever heard."

"I like where this is going," Emily said. Richard was chuckling.

"And, well, Paris has a glaring weakness. She can't handle anyone challenging her," Rory said. "So I said that I would gladly be the new editor of the style page… but I had to be a co-editor. The advisor agreed."

"Congratulations, Rory," Richard said. "I am so glad you took our lessons to heart."

"It gets even better," Rory said. "I called your friend's brother at the Courant, Grandma. And I told him that I was the editor and I'm going to meet with him in a few weeks to maybe set up an internship there."

Emily applauded.

"That is so wonderful, Rory," Emily said. "Absolutely wonderful. I could see that behind that innocent face of yours was a young woman who wants to be in charge."

"Yes, Rory," Richard said. "We're both proud of you. You're realizing how the world works at a young age. And, yes, I can see why you didn't tell your mother any of this. Pulling a coup like this is certainly not her style."

"And on that note, there was something else I wanted to bring up," Rory said, now obviously nervous.

"What is it, dear?"

"Well, I learned all of this in one weekend," Rory said. "And all during the week, all Mom wanted to do was watch dumb movies. And that's fine and fun. But…" Rory gulped. "But if I'm going to be able to get a leg up on my… enemies… I'm going to need to outwork them."

Emily and Richard both forced smiles.

"You taught me in one weekend how to become the boss," Rory said. "I can't even imagine what I'd learn if I was here more."

Rory took a sip of her Coke.

"I would like to live here. With you."

They both paused. Richard began to get up in joy but Emily caught him with a glare and he sat down.

"Rory, we obviously would do anything for you," Emily said. "But, obviously, there's your mother to consider."

"Yes, Rory," Richard said. "I do think our influence is perfect for your ambitions. But that… that's a big step."

"Yes, Grandpa, I understand that. And I thought you might say that," Rory said. "But in order to get something, you have to give something."

Richard nodded.

"If you help me convince my mom to move in," Rory said, looking at her grandfather. "Then I'll go to Yale."

"What about Harvard," Emily asked.

"Well, Grandpa, you've always said Yale taught you everything you know," Rory said. "And now I want to learn that, too."

Richard and Emily got up and gave Rory a big hug at once.

"Rory, yes, I agree to those terms," Richard said.

"Allow me to handle your mother, Rory," Emily said. "We can't spring this on her tonight. I think we'll just have to start this slowly. Maybe making sure that you can come over here any weekend you want, first."

"I will follow your lead, Grandma," Rory said.

"Very good," Emily replied. "After all, no one knows your mother's weaknesses better than me."


End file.
